


Chains and Tomes

by Kenocka



Series: Chains and Tomes [1]
Category: League of Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenocka/pseuds/Kenocka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evidently, the warden’s lack of respect for personal space did not just apply to him being in uncomfortably close proximity to others, but also to their living spaces.</p><p>Thresh watched the reflection of his ghastly flames in the other’s armor for but a moment before he spoke again. “I feel many things. Excitement, joy, anger, jealousy, hatred…” he hesitated for a moment, and it could be heard in his tone as it faltered, “and there are times when I find myself overcome by a sensation that I can only describe as loneliness. Isn’t that strange, Nasus? How I can feel no remorse for my actions, but at times feel as if I could drown in solitude?”</p><p>“How may I help you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chains and Tomes

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a one-on-one RP with Thresh-mun and published as the lovely coauthor of so wonderful a writer. 
> 
> Thresh and Nasus are definitely not together in this fic and it is the first time they've ever interacted together. So far, in order of what comes first, it's this, Sleep, and then Love.

Daylight was hardly one of Thresh’s favorite things, and he often found himself holed up in the Shadow Isles when he could — the lingering fog proved useful in blotting out the horrendous rays. On other days (such as this particular day), when fortune was not in his favor, he would roam the halls of the institute in search of some way to pass the time until the sun set.

He strode down the corridors, enjoying the echoes he created as he moved. Upon walking past the entrance to the library he stopped, realizing that he had not once step foot within it. The warden cackled in delight as he turned on his heel and pushed the large doors, pleased that he now had some way to entertain himself.

Shelves upon shelves of knowledge towered above and around the warden, and while he was never really too keen on reading in his former life (as he had little time to spare in his extremely _busy_ schedule), he found that written word was actually rather appealing — as there was something for nearly every interest. He was partial to books that detailed ancient torture techniques from far off lands, and collections of folklore that spoke of haunts and spooks from even before his own time.

He wasn’t too sure the institute had any such tomes in their inventory, however, and the curator was nowhere in sight for him to question. Thresh sighed heavily and took to perusing the shelves in the hope that he would find something that would pique his interest.

Being the Institute library’s curator had advantages outside of access to the many different books it housed. There was also the solitude that came with it. True summoners often came to interrupt that isolation but that didn’t bother Nasus. He was doing most of what he enjoyed after all.

However every so often the League’s champions came to visit and Nasus found Thresh among the shelves just as he was returning books to their proper places.

“How may I help you,” he asked, surprised that the Chain Warden would even be among the tomes. Most of the Institute’s undead, barring Karthus, seemed unconcerned with the knowledge it also held on its grounds.

The warden placed his fingers lightly on the spine of a book at one end of a shelf and trailed them along the row of tomes that bore a striking resemblance to the infamous Morellonomicon he’d seen a handful of his fellow champions borrow on the Fields of Justice. He hummed contentedly, passing that shelf and browsing the next one, reading to himself aloud each title he passed.

A familiar voice caused him to stop and turn in the direction, “Greetings, Nasus.” The warden eased towards the curator, tapping his chin in a contemplative manner. “I’m not intruding, am I?” he questioned, dropping his hands and clasping them behind his back, “I’ve only come in search of a way to pass a little time. But, I haven’t been able to find a book to keep myself preoccupied.”

“All champions and summoners are welcome to use the Institute’s library.” He didn’t bother to include that not all the books and writings it contained were available for just anyone to look at but thought that it was best left unsaid anyway. “What exactly are you interested in? I can point you in the right direction from there.”

The reaper laughed darkly, ghostly flames flickering in excitement, “What am I interested in? The occult, of course, and torture. Have you got anything that fits that criteria?” He spoke so nonchalantly on the subject, as if that was something commonplace. It was clear that he had little shame in his hobbies. Thresh leaned against the bookcase, gazing off at another shelf, “if you haven’t got anything like that, what would you recommend?”

“We may,” said the curator cautiously, his previous desire to be helpful turned off. However he felt personally he wouldn’t allow that to interfere with his work ethic. He would keep an eye on the Chain Warden though. He walked away from his visitor to a filing system near the library’s entrance and began to search. Minutes later he found what he was looking for and disappeared among the shelves before reappearing with several books.

“You cannot leave with these,” he said as he carefully handed the old tomes over to the spectral being.

Thresh hummed softly as he watched Nasus disappear into the sea of literature. Part of him wanted to dart off towards the back, where he was certain he saw a door that lead to darkness. His curiosity ran rampant as he pondered what could be in there. Nothing? A passage to other tomes the institute hadn’t placed out for the public? He shook his head, telling himself that there was no way the curator would leave such information unguarded and simply passed the door off as a closet of sorts.

Nasus came back into view and the warden gasped in delight, snatching the books from his hands. “Do they have pictures?” he joked, plopping down onto the ground and crossing his legs. He gazed at each of the tomes, tracing the gilded titles slowly as he tried to decide where to start.

His chipper facade slowly faltered as he flipped open one of the larger compendiums he had been given.

“There are anatomical depictions in some of them.” Yes that was definitely distaste making itself known on his tongue. Nasus would keep it to himself as much as he was able. He walked away from the Chain Warden, leaving behind the words that he would be behind the very door Thresh had noticed earlier. 

Thresh could hear the abhorrence in the other’s voice. He chuckled as he watched the curator turn with word that he was headed off towards the back room.  _That_  door? How fortuitous. The wraith attempted to appear as interested as he could in the tome on his lap until Nasus was out of sight.

Once it was clear, Thresh tossed the book aside and inched his way over to the door. He grasped the frame, poking his head in to catch a glimpse of whatever he could.

The door, oiled to prevent creaking and squeaking, slid open easily without displacing a whisper of air. That did not prevent the alarm spell from sounding off in its caster’s head. Nasus, in a separate room, sighed irritably. It seemed as if every champion, summoner, and stray visitor to the Institute’s library found that door and couldn’t resist poking their heads into it. It lead to nowhere important, just his living room and from there his living quarters. Since Thresh was the only one currently in the library - never a particularly busy area of the Institute - it could only be him nosing about his spartan space. 

From what he could see, there was nothing of interest in the room. How dull. The warden gave a dejected sigh, dropping his arms to his sides. He wasn’t really expecting anything, but it was still a disappointment. Assuming it was Nasus’ quarters, Thresh doubted there would be much as he was under the impression that the large canine was a bit of a stick in the mud. 

Still, with the promise of nothing, the warden was still curious. Perhaps he could get a better idea of the curator? He had nothing to lose, anyway. Slinking into the short passage, he moved towards what seemed to be the other’s living room. 

Evidently, the warden’s lack of respect for personal space did not just apply to him being in uncomfortably close proximity to others, but also to their living spaces.

“Is there a reason you have abandoned your distasteful research to impose yourself upon my space,” Nasus asked from a doorway that could have lead to a small kitchenette or any other expected room in an apartment.

“Distasteful? How _rude_ ,” he pouted, crossing his arms. The warden advanced towards the other, “I hadn’t thought that this would lead to your living space, I suppose it makes sense though.” Thresh stopped in front of Nasus once more, poising himself up on the tips of his own toes to see over his shoulder and into the room behind him.

“Is this where I’m supposed to apologize?” he asked, though it was clear he didn’t care that he was being a burden. “I could always go back to my research, but I hope you are aware that doors such as yours ignite curiosity.”

 _‘Clearly I’m going to have to begin_ locking _my chambers as people, living and undead, cannot keep themselves away from perceived mystery.’_  
  
“You are not the first to wander into my chambers due to inquisitiveness.” Nasus gave into the urge to rub the bridge of his snout. Too many times had he wound up playing host to inquiring champions and summoners. Either they expected to be shown around his quarters as if already invited or they wanted to question him on anything that sprang to mind. 

Thresh would likely be no different. 

The warden relished in the other’s aggravation, wondering just how far he could push the other. Would he crack and snap at the warden in annoyance? This became more of a game and less about his curiosity of the curator’s living quarters.

“ _Well?_ ” he snickered, “aren’t you going to offer me a seat? While I’m here, we might as well  _chat_.”

 _‘I was correct. No different than the rest that have wandered into my rooms.’_  

“Follow me.” Tone filled with exasperation, Nasus led Thresh through what could be called a foyer if one were feeling fancy enough consider a half wall as such and into the living room proper. He made a general, sweeping gesture at the couch and chairs, wordlessly telling his uninvited guest to pick a spot and seat himself. The jackal himself took a spot on the couch. He considered being quietly, patiently annoyed but a question sprang onto his tongue.

“I learned and taught about the cycle of life and death. The undead were part of those lessons though never from a personal account. Tell me: what is it like being undead?”

Thresh glanced around the room, choosing a chair opposite the curator. Making himself comfortable, he crossed his legs proper. The jackal seemed to be fighting himself on whether to speak or stay silent, to which the warden responded with a devious chuckle, leaning in and resting his chin on his palms. Nasus spoke eventually, to Thresh’s surprise, with an inquiry.

“Being undead?” he leaned back into the chair, hands folded in his lap. “You don’t feel pain, for starters,” he mumbled, lolling his head from side to side “unless you let your memories get the better of you. It’s all in your head, but it’s almost  _suffocating_ …” Thresh shuddered, gazing down at his hands, “and at times you almost miss the days when you could sleep, eat, and feel. Those are but fleeting thoughts, however, as you learn one important thing upon death —  _flesh is a prison_.” 

He snickered, the tone of his voice dropping to a sinister hiss “those prisoners of mine, they didn’t realize their actions led to the greatest gift ever bestowed upon me. _Undeath is divine, Nasus_.”

The impassive facade he wore hid how the words made him inwardly shudder. Thresh spoke of his state of being as a blessing instead of the curse it readily appeared to be. Then again he likely didn’t feel a crawling sense of  _wrongness_  around the undead like the living. However he could be referencing something that no one but himself knew about. 

“How is it a boon? You are, for the most part, confined to darkness, your movements constricted by sunlight. The living will almost entirely seek your destruction to the exclusion of all other conflicts if given the chance. That is the way of how some living creatures feel towards one another but the undead seem to inspire a specific kind of detestation.”

“The dark of the night is preferable,” he began, “it’s a fair trade for what was given me in return.” Thresh gripped the arms of the chair, scooting himself to the edge and leaning in towards the other. “The living may wish to eradicate my kind, that much I know. But, the undead are resilient, and those who wish our demise have little power to make such a reality.” 

The warden stopped himself, realizing he was getting a little worked up. “The living wish us gone for they are afraid. They have every right to be so, and they may threaten us all they like, but their words lack weight.” He sighed quietly, “There is no fear after death, hollow threats are hardly to be considered disadvantageous.”

Thresh leaned to one side, allowing a silence to fall between them before continuing. “The ability to strike fear in others is a powerful asset, and having died once with little to keep you in the ground… turns one into an unstoppable force — and that, my friend, is the greatest of boons.” He cackled cruelly, “The  _only_  disadvantage to being undead, was that I had to suffer through living as a mortal first.”

Nasus was thoroughly absorbed by what the former warden had to say despite his inherent repugnance at the creature. This was far better than theories and he made the decision to commit the conversation to paper. He would keep a copy for himself and if League officials were interested, make one available to them as well. 

“When you first awoke as one of the undead what did you think of what you had become? Did you feel as you did when you were alive? Have you gradually lost what feelings the living have?”

The warden tented his fingers, listening closely as Nasus continued to toss questions in his direction. He rather enjoyed talking about himself, so he didn’t mind the rapid succession of inquiries. 

“So inquisitive you are…” the wraith hummed as he bounced his leg lightly, “Initially I was distraught. I had no clue why or how I woke, and for a short while I was unsure of what I was to do with myself. For an instant, for the first time I could recall, I felt entirely useless.” He paused and moved himself up onto his feet. “Though it was not long before I understood the measures of my power. Unrestricted by mortality— I was free, and that excited me.”

Thresh began to pace back and forth, hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Understand that I was a cruel and merciless man before my death as well. I had become too comfortable with my reign, so sure that no one would rise up against me— I paid the price for such foolishness when my wards turned on me and left me to hang from the very chains I used as instruments of torment. With death behind me, I could continue my work unimpeded. Riddle me this, curator, could a noose hang a man who has no neck?” The warden placed a hand over his ‘mouth’ just as his tone had risen to just under a shout, and turned to face Nasus, laughing wickedly “Forgive me, I am still very passionate about that particular topic.”

The reaper eased to the side, taking a seat next to the other man now, rather than across. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin atop. “To answer you in brief, I had mixed feelings on what I had become until I understood that I was free of all that bound me to the living. In terms of physical feelings, there is no heat, there is no chill, no heartbeat or pulse,” the man rattled off a list, counting the differences on the tips of his fingers, stopping once he could no longer think of anymore. “But… I assume those are not the ‘feelings’ you were talking about. Did you perhaps mean  _emotions_?” Thresh watched the reflection of his ghastly flames in the other’s armor for but a moment before he spoke again. “I feel many things. Excitement, joy, anger, jealousy, hatred…” he hesitated for a moment, and it could be heard in his tone as it faltered, “and there are times when I find myself overcome by a sensation that I can only describe as loneliness. Isn’t that strange, Nasus? How I can feel no remorse for my actions, but at times feel as if I could drown in solitude?” 

Nasus had wanted to know if the Chain Warden was just fabricating emotions for the sake of the living. It was obvious now that the undead, or at the very least some of the undead, still did carry their emotions. Thresh was among the latter. The fervor displayed when describing his hanging had made that evident even if his previous words and actions had not. Was it because he was newly risen? Karthus was said to become angered when asked about his intentions for joining the League. Hecarim had pride to spare. Could it be contact with the living that allowed them to retain this piece of themselves?

Shifting to better face Thresh as the specter moved closer, satisfaction with the answers he was being provided along with the wave of  _wrongness_  that passed over him again clamored for equal attention. The jackal ignored the second feeling, quashing it with a scholar’s resolve to learn. “I believe it is natural for all sentient creatures to want to feel kinship with others. It is why we seek out companions, even if only for short periods of contact. It eases a burden, to know that one can go to another with the problems and stresses encountered by all routinely. Most importantly it soothes the need to feel and be wanted.”

The warden listened to the other’s explanation and nodded in agreement. “That makes sense; I suppose that would explain why I so often press for interaction.” He laughed quietly, seeming to have lost his gusto from before. “Is there anything else you’d like to know? Perhaps you could tell me about yourself?” the reaper asked, fidgeting with his fingers in the meantime.

Thresh had been open and most importantly, honest through all the questioning he had been bombarded with. Reciprocating in kind was expected and fair. It was balanced. Still, hesitation suppressed the curator’s words. He kept information about himself and more importantly his world ambiguous to avoid more of his people being drawn into Runeterra’s conflict while their own was waging war. It was known that he came from a world mostly covered in desert sands and that a sect of his people believed themselves to have become gods. That his brother had been driven mad by his own ability to see into the hearts of potential petitioners to the library but there was more to the story. 

“I hadn’t known how my brother was suffering until it was too late.”  _Guilt_ , _failure_ , and  _shame_  hid themselves behind a guise of stoicism. “He has always been aggressive and with war being threatened I thought at first his heavy-handed tactics were an overreaction. I ignored the signs of his increased violence until he began slaughtering people. My students, the people I was born to protect, would have been murdered had I not acted. Once I began to fight him he paid them no heed. I fought him to the point in which I could have ended his pain.”

A touch of bitterness hit his next words. “Then the mages cast their spell upon my brother, the magic of my Fury of the Sands is theorized to have disrupted the magic, and inadvertently summoned the both of us as if we were common spirits or elemental creatures used to such treatment.” A touch of the anger he still felt from that day briefly touched upon his brow. “Only I appeared in the summoning circle, still fully immersed in the desert’s wrath and my own, before the summoners. They pled for mercy at the sight of me, thinking I would harm them and realizing the wrong brother had been called forth. I agreed to listen to their story of how their world was threatened and agreed to join their League. It wasn’t until Renekton appeared on Summoner’s Rift much later that I was told  _he_  was their original target.”

Thresh may have learned a thing or two about expressing himself by associating with the living, but he still lacked empathy. Were he any other, the curator’s story would have moved him. Instead, he watched with patience as Nasus spoke. He could faintly hear the struggle in his voice, and it did not evoke pain, but rather excitement in the warden.

Anger cracked the curator’s stoic mask briefly, eliciting a quiet gasp from the wraith. He pressed his ‘face’ into his knees as if to muffle the noise, but that had no effect. His surprise was lost to the other’s words though, as the volume drowned out his own. To see others get so worked up was a delight for the warden. Fingertips drummed atop his knees, awaiting his chance to ask even more questions. It was rare for Thresh to be so enthralled by another’s story.

“What was your initial thought when you were told that they had intended to summon your brother rather than you? Do you have plans to finish him off if the League would permit it?” His excitement was unable to be hidden, he wanted to hear more of the curator’s fury. Initially it was just to be fair to the other, as Thresh  _had_ intruded on the other’s home; and then spent a good chunk of time speaking of himself.

He would have never guessed Nasus had such an interesting past.

Squirming doubt to continue speaking wormed in the pit of the curator’s stomach before he began talking. “Initially I could think of nothing. I only felt disbelief that turned quickly into anger. Renekton was dangerous enough on our world where people would know of his capabilities. What could these supposedly learned mages have been thinking to try to summon him while he was incapable of making  _sane_  decisions?”

At Thresh’s second question Nasus’ face appeared to fall. Again he felt the despondence of that day he had been summoned. “I do not want to kill my brother,” he said lowly, muttering almost. “I have hopes that possibly, somewhere on Runeterra there is some way to restore his mind to him.”

The curator frowned again, heat coming back into his voice and he was no longer murmuring. “I do not approve of where he is imprisoned. His mind is constantly exposed to a creature from the Void and nightmares incarnate. Neither can be helping him regain his senses. There are times when I feel that his incarceration in such close proximity to those two is on purpose.” 

The warden continued to listen, leaning in slightly as the other’s voice dropped. His curiosity was sparked again, now wanting to speak to the curator’s brother. He doubted he would be able to convince the summoners to allow him a visit, however. Thresh sighed to himself, making a mental note to check into that another day.

He brought his attention back to Nasus, who’s fury was rising again, ever so subtly. The wraith shuddered, gripping himself tighter to hide his sick enjoyment in the other’s anguish. “How unfortunate,” he responded, truly unsure of what words to offer the other. In his mind, such company was the best— anyone as big a lunatic as himself was worthy of speaking to. Though he supposed they were on different levels of insanity; his being more refined in comparison to the bloodlust Nasus detailed.

“I would love the chance to converse with him someday, your brother that is. He seems like such an intriguing character.” Thresh chuckled, wondering for a moment if he should at least feign some sort of compassion for the other’s sake. “My apologies, I am not so well versed on sensitive topics— comfort is something spirits such as myself are unable to grasp. Though I will admit; your plight is very moving, Curator.”

Something akin to a glower made its way onto the jackal’s countenance. “Renekton is beyond conversations of any meaning. I have attempted over and over again to hold his interest on any subject other than his fixation on killing me. It is a useless endeavor.” Never mind that he weekly visited his slavering sibling as part of a self-imposed guilt-penance and to make certain he was being cared for as well as was possible given the situation.

Nasus straightened his shoulders from the slight slouch they had attained. “I appreciate your attempt at consolation nonetheless Thresh. I believe you are the first to have had me speak with on such matters.”

“Mmh, I see,” he mumbled, defeated. The warden eased the grasp he had placed around his legs, allowing his hands to fall to his ankles. “I wonder what exactly the summoners had intended to do with your brother.” He assumed it had to do with power, as that was more often than not the case with the institute.

The second part threw Thresh off, though. He was the first the jackal had shared such personal information with?

“ _Oh_? What makes me so special?” he tilted his head to the side, puzzled as to why the other had trusted such a personal matter to his ears. Perhaps it was because the curator believed Thresh had little reason to share it with others— which would be a reasonable assumption, as he had already shown little actual interest in talking about anything other than himself. The only reason he was so enthralled by the jackal’s story in the first place was because it evoked from him such delicious agony.

A shrug, so casual a gesture looked odd coming from the detached man, met Thresh’s first question. “They are doing now what they intended to do with him then; he is fighting on their Fields of Justice and doing so while rabid.”

“Perhaps,” ventured Nasus in a faraway tone, a paltry smile forming as he looked away from the warden briefly, “I needed someone to share my own solitude with.” 

How deliciously sickening their motives were at times. He kept the thought to himself, not wanting to start anything more just yet. “I suppose you have to make due with what you have,” he snickered in response to the other’s second statement. “It’s a shame it had to be me and not someone who could offer you any solace. I don’t mind too terribly though, listening, that is.” The warden kicked his legs off to the side, allowing his feet to meet the floor once again. He rose, slowly, rolling his shoulders back and stretched— more of an act of habit rather than to relieve any mild discomfort.

“Shall I leave you to yourself for the time being, or should I stick around?” He spoke with slight hesitation,  _almost_  not wanting to leave the curator’s side for whatever strange reason.

“You were… surprisingly easy to talk to.” There were multiple champions Nasus got along with, some he even considered friends. Yet he had never felt the need to disclose his personal thoughts in such a way. Maybe on some level he thought they wouldn’t be interested in hearing what he had to say? He stood, nearly copying Thresh’s movements as he did. “I do not mean to bore you. If you would like to leave then you are free to do so but I have a library to attend to.”

“You did not bore me, Nasus; I promise you,” he did his best to assure the other, resting a hand upon his shoulder briefly. He watched Nasus carefully as he stood, “I do hope we’ll get another opportunity like this to converse in the future.”

Thresh recalled a stack of tomes he had left in an aisle between shelves, he made note to go pick those up once the curator had moved on— though the idea of reading had lost its previous allure. The curator did seem as though he was giving Thresh permission to stay, however, which seemed rather enticing. It’d give him a better place to read than in the middle of a walkway, at least.

“As do I.” The surge of  _wrongness_  that hit Nasus as Thresh touched him, a surprising act by itself, was ignored. He smiled to cover the innate discomfort that the undead caused. “I will speak with you again later if you are still here or another time entirely.” 

The warden found himself chuckling once more. “We’ll see where I end up,” he turned, ambling towards the door. “I’ll be heading back to the Isles for some time, try not to miss me too much,” Thresh joked, waving behind him as he slipped back into the library.

 

 


End file.
